Troubled Robinson
by LovelyKouga
Summary: WilburxLewis/Cornelius...quality story and slash. - Carl witnesses a very distraught Wilbur doing something in his room, and it's time to reveal all. Wilbur can't live without the boy he lost in time, but it seems he has been near all along.
1. Chapter 1 The Change

The house was pitch black, everyone had gone to bed and all was silent in the huge Robinson estate. However, one lone beam of light cut through the darkness, indicating that someone was still awake and busy. That someone was the Robinson's personal robot, Carl, and he was busy finishing with the washing up from the scrumptious dinner he had prepared for the entire family.

He made a slightly irritated noise as he gave a stubborn dirty spot on the last dish a quick swipe with the disposable tea towel he had been using. Screwing it up into a thick wad, he effortlessly extended his arm towards the incinerator and dropped it in, pressing the big red button to activate it. His light blue optics reflected the light of the dancing flames for a moment, before it turned off automatically, its job completed. He was always thankful to his master, Cornelius Robinson, for giving him such a handy function as making his limbs extendable. It made his robotic life just that much easier, and even though they were skinnier than he would've liked, he couldn't help but hold a certain fondness for them. Attending to the family at mealtimes took up a lot of power and time, but Carl didn't really mind at all. There was so much love in this family, and everyone treated him like a friend and family member, an equal, so he was proud to call himself a Robinson. He wasn't created to be a serve-bot, Cornelius had made that very clear when he invented him, and had let Carl do as he wanted. There was only one order he was ever given, and that was to be a friend and to protect the lonely, youngest member of the Robinson's, Wilbur, when he was very small.

Carl smiled to himself as he slowly climbed up the stairs towards his room. Wilbur was such a cute kid, even if he did have a taste for troublemaking, and it had been fascinating watching him grow from small child to pre-teen. They had been through so much together, going on adventures, Wilbur sharing all his secrets with him, talking their way out of trouble…Carl imagined his life would have been extremely dull if it weren't for the bright-eyed and loyal kid, and he loved him for that. They shared a bond that perhaps wasn't entirely normal for a boy and machine to have, but it never bothered either of them. Lately, though, they seemed to be growing apart a little. Wilbur would spend almost all evening in his bedroom and only came out for meals. He conversed as normal at the dinner table, smiling and laughing at the jokes and familiar stories, and then he would simply return back to his room again when he was finished. Carl had asked Franny if something was wrong, because usually himself and Wilbur would hang around in the rumpus dome all night, staying up late talking, eating junk food and playing time-cop, which had been their favourite game for as long as either of them could remember. Franny had smiled, a knowing look passing across her kind face, and she had assured Carl that it was only a phase.

"Teenagers are like that, you know." She had said, patting him on the arm affectionately. "I think he's going through some changes and doesn't quite know how to deal with them. We should just be there for him."

Carl had nodded knowingly. A quick check of his database revealed many chapters on teenage change and emotions, and he had a feeling Franny was right. He should be there for him, and try to get their relationship moving again.

"I just hope he doesn't bite my head off, apparently teenagers get cranky a lot. Ohhh boy, and I thought Wilbur was tough to handle when he was happy!" He said, a mock-sad tone noticeable in his voice.

Franny had laughed at this and then gone to bed, saying to Carl she was just happy Wilbur was a boy and not a girl, because THEN they'd be in for it!

Carl had reached the top of the stairs and he paused momentarily outside Wilbur's room, listening intently. He didn't know what he was listening for, it was late and the boy should be asleep by now, surely.

Then, faintly at first, he heard it. Carl stepped back a bit from the door, alarmed. It couldn't be…

Carl opened his chest cavity, slowly so as to not make a noise, and turned a knob twice. His optics made a sharp buzzing sound and a dark red glow replaced the usual blue, and he turned them into focus with his hands. What he had just activated was a new and improved version of sensors that allowed you to see heat through walls. Except now in the future they were more precise and displayed an almost perfectly clear image, in the colours of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and black. Carl's optics widened in shock as he focused on Wilbur, lying on his side in his bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Carl couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, but his eyes were squeezed shut, tears pouring down his face and soaking the pillow, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his own small frame. His body was shaking with the sobbing and Carl could see his lips moving, always repeating the same word over and over, over and over. Carl covered his own mouth with his hands and took a step forward, his face mere inches away from the door. He had never seen his friend like this, it seemed so out of character for him and it rocked Carl to his uranium core. All he wanted to do was break down the door, wrap his arms around Wilbur, tell him everything was okay and destroy whatever it was that was making him so visibly distraught. He knew he was being motherly but he didn't care, all he cared about was his little buddy and what could possibly reduce him to such an emotional wreck. He moved his hand to the doorknob and had just begun to slowly turn it when something Wilbur was doing stopped him dead in his tracks.

Wilbur's hands had left his shoulders and were now buried inside his boxer shorts, making violet, jerking motions. Now lying on his back, his eyes were closed and were still shedding a few tears as he continuously stroked his length, his lips still repeating that same word. He suddenly threw his head back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, his hips bucking into his hands time and time again, young body shaking with the clearly new experience. One hand stopped its pumping and moved up to Wilbur's stomach, stroking in small circles as it travelled further and further up. It brushed over his small erect nipples and he gasped audibly, his back arched up and his lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure as he came into his boxers. Sticky, white fluid now covered his hand and most of his midsection, and he lay there, his cheeks flushed a deep pink and breathlessly whispering that word between ragged breaths.

Carl hadn't moved at all, and he still didn't, a perplexed look was very apparent on his face. He didn't know what to think, but he had a feeling that he shouldn't have watched…

And that he shouldn't have enjoyed watching.


	2. Chapter 2 Shut Down

It wasn't a sexual attraction, not at all. Being a robot, he was incapable of having a sex drive, and therefore also incapable of getting any sexual gratification out of what he had just witnessed. It was merely the fact that he had never seen Wilbur act that way before. Having such an attachment to the boy meant he wanted to know everything about him, know every feeling, every thought. Share them. He enjoyed watching because he had just learned something new about his best friend, seen something he'd never seen him do, heard noises he'd never heard him make…It all was rather fascinating, and he wanted to see it again.

Wilbur moaned the word a final time and rolled over onto his side, facing the door. Carl flinched at the poignant look on his face as he cried himself to sleep with his face buried deep into the pillow, muffling any sound he might have made. Carl did not move until he was sure the little lad was asleep, and even then he made his way slowly and reluctantly to his recharging quarters across the hall. Closing the door quietly behind him, he leaned with his back against it, his robotic limbs shaking in shock. His legs gave way and he sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

'One order…one order was all I was ever given.' He thought, 'and I can't even manage to follow it.' Cornelius's kind face swimmed in and out of his database as he replayed the memory over and over in his head, and he moaned in shame. "Protect the kid…be his friend. I've done neither. I'm sorry Cornelius, but I've failed you. Some great robot I turned out to be, all your work was wasted the second you gave me free will."  
Carl sat in silence for a few minutes, analysing his words carefully. Free will…what did it mean to a robot anyway? Sure, he may be able to select which action to take, but they were all based around the orders he was given by his creator. And Cornelius had given him one order and one order only, that much was clear. But what if he were to be given another order? Would that erase the previous one, or would the new simply become a higher priority?

Suddenly his optics snapped into focus, and he scrambled to his feet, knocking a few image-displaying LED's (iLED's) off the table by the door. Yes, that was it! All he had to do was get Cornelius to give him a new order, one to replace his old, one that would allow him to help Wilbur…  
Carl froze in place and teetered on his feet. His arms dropped to his sides limply and his optic shades began to close slowly as he fell to the ground with a loud crash of metal on metal. Lost in all his jumbled thoughts, he had forgotten what he had come up here to do in the first place. Recharge. Carl's vision flickered as his uranium processor prepared to shut down, and he reached forward, scrabbling at the floor helplessly. His fingers curled around something as his whole processing unit whirred and turned off with a dull click, and the last thing he remembered was someone calling his name into the darkness.

***

"CARL!" Screamed Wilbur. His trainers squeaked against the metal floor as he sprinted towards his fallen friend. He knelt down quickly next to Carl and turned him over onto his back, and he shook him gently, trying to coax a response out of him. However, Carl remained motionless. Wilbur attempted to slow down his ragged breathing, trying not to hyperventilate.  
'C'mon Wilbur, get it together. Robots, unlike people can be repaired easily. Well, easily enough if you have a world-famous inventor for a father.' He moved his hands across to Carl's chest cavity and opened it, and he flipped a few switches and knobs, checking all his vitals. The dull red glow of all the various computer equipment in the room provided enough light for him to swiftly locate the problem, and even so his brow furrowed with worry. He dragged the heavy robot across the room to his recharge point, straining with the effort. Sweat dotted his brow as he struggled with the heavy load, but eventually he succeeded in pulling Carl against the wall in a sitting position. Plugged in now, Wilbur could hear the faint sounds of clicking and whirring as Carl's uranium processor started to reboot, and he then leaned against the wall, sliding slowly down it to sit next to the robot. What had happened in here anyway? It wasn't like Carl to allow himself to run out of power, he'd only done it once before and even then it had been a shock. Wilbur shook his head, attempting to clear the hazy memory from his head when he caught sight of something in Carl's hand.

It was emitting a soft glow and Wilbur could see it was an iLED, the futuristic equivalent of a moving photograph. They'd become all the rage after the last Harry Potter film had been released all those years ago; the idea of moving images instead of still ones had captivated the world's fancy, and Most iLED's could hold up to two hundred frames of a 'movie-photo', or you could simply upload different pictures and have them play like a slideshow. The cheap ones could hold around four Gigabytes of pictures, which was really all one needed; and the more expensive ones could include effects and music between photos.

This particular one appeared to be a slideshow, and Wilbur leaned forward to get a better look. Curious, now that he knew Carl was okay, he roughly prised it from Carl's stiff fingers and held it on his lap, smiling fondly down at it. Every frame was of himself and Carl, and in the first frame they appeared to be playing a game of some sort. As the iLED displayed another frame he could clearly see they were playing time cop, and that he himself was the cop, and Carl was the bad guy. He sniggered a little as the next frame played, revealing Carl surrendering to the victorious and rather dashing cop with great hair. The next frame was of Carl and himself yet again, taken about six weeks ago. Carl was positively beaming at the camera, and he had his arm around the equally ecstatic young Robinson. Wilbur flinched and quickly pressed the 'pause' button at the bottom, and just sat there on the floor, staring at the image in silence.

Where had those carefree days gone, when it was just the two of them? Ever since this whole 'going-back-in-time-to-fix-the-future' thing had happened, their relationship just hadn't been the same. Wilbur knew it was his fault, Carl had been nothing but nice to him all this time but he had felt too low to even respond with a smile. It was all thanks to his new obsession, it just wouldn't leave him alone. It haunted his every waking and sleeping moment, until it was all merged into one, never-ending dream. Or nightmare, he couldn't tell which. Wilbur muttered breathlessly to himself the same word he had uttered earlier that night, again and again. Hot tears burned behind his eyes and he blinked quickly, biting his lip as he tried to not let them overflow. He was overcome with a feeling of nausea; it was all so wrong what he was thinking about. Why did things have to be so hard…why couldn't he have what he wanted most?

Sobs racked his lean body as he threw the iLED across the ground in a sudden flash of anger, thinking it cruel as two forever-smiling faces continued to beam up at him, frozen in time.  
All of a sudden, a startled yelp escaped his lips as he felt something snake around his shoulders and pull him close. Realising it was Carl; he froze at the contact and held his breath, willing the robot to release his grip. However, the arm seemed to pull him even closer into a tight embrace, and they both turned their heads to look at each other. Wilbur could see there was a look of hurt in Carl's eyes as he extended his other arm to retrieve the abused iLED, not once did either look away from each other. Carl held it in front of Wilbur's face and the young boy's lip shook slightly as he tried yet again to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Hay buddy, this is my favourite iLED. Why did you do that?" Carl asked, clearly upset. Wilbur sniffed and quickly turned his head to look away. He couldn't answer him, couldn't bring himself to look at anything. He closed his eyes tightly, but he could still see the picture, it was burned into his eyelids from the light. Carl lowered his free arm and placed it tenderly on the floor in front of them both, touching the image of Wilbur's smiling face with one finger. He moved the arm still gripping Wilbur slightly so that it was around his waist instead, and Wilbur flinched a little at the personal contact. Not so long ago he would have been perfectly fine with anything, but right now he just felt so appalling, and not to mention; dirty.

Their pose was the same as in the iLED, but their feelings right now couldn't have been more different.


	3. Chapter 3 Skipping The Inevitable

Wilbur sighed heavily and opened his eyes a crack. It was morning already? He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, looking around blearily, and checked his clock on the far wall.

9:15, Friday the 13th, 27 Degrees Celsius…it was later than he'd usually sleep in, but hey, a young Robinson needs his sleep.

"Gwahh…" he yawned, slipping out of bed and stretching his limbs. "No wonder I feel so…WAIT. Friday?! Darn it all, I've got school!"

Wilbur shrieked and made a wild dash for his clothes, folded neatly on his chair. The usual…Lightning-printed tee with blue denim jeans, yellow belt with a large 'R' on the front, black converse sneakers, socks and a pair of boxers with yellow flames down the sides. He undressed and hurriedly put everything on, no time for a shower or breakfast, he was already late!

'Mr. Cason is gonna KILL me…' he mumbled into his shirt as he pulled it over his head. A quick check in the mirror determined he was no worse for wear, hair could use a little more gel though. He just had time to style it a little, curling his fringe at the end between his fingers, and holding it there briefly so it would stay in place, before he dashed out his door.

Wilbur, in all his hurry, had forgotten to tie his laces before running out the door. A fact he became acutely aware of as he tripped and fell right before the stairs. He yelped in fright as he braced himself for impact, throwing his arms over his face and squeezing his eyes shut tight. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and it seemed as if he was falling at half the usual speed as his body tipped over the staircase. He hit the third step and felt the sharp pain pierce his right side, a blow that would surely bruise later.

Just as he was preparing to hit another step, he felt himself stop with a sharp jerk as he was launched backwards. He continued to sail up the stairs instead of down as he was pulled into the waiting arms of Carl once more. His arms retracted back into his body as he held him close, and a bit longer than necessary it seemed. They stayed like that for a minute, Wilbur in a state of slight shock as they both stared down the stairway. He'd never noticed before how far down they actually went, how cold and hard the metal floor at the bottom looked, and he gulped audibly as he realised this could have ended very, very badly.

He leaned back against Carl and found comfort in the solidness of him, felt safe and lucky to have such a caring robot friend. He almost said so, but then in one huge wave all the memories of what happened the previous night flooded into his mind. He pointedly struggled against the strong arms but it was no use, his body was sore and Carl wasn't letting him go until he saw fit. Carl leaned forward as though to whisper in his ear, and seemed to hesitate before changing his mind halfway. He simply held his captor closer for a moment, as though to remind himself he was safe and whole, and smoothed down a loose strand of jet-black hair before releasing him. Wilbur didn't move a muscle until the faint tapping of his footsteps faded away towards the garage. He raised an eyebrow, confused. Carl was acting weird, not like he was one to talk but really, what did a robot have to be depressed about?

'Oh, wait; it must have been that iLED last night. I don't think I broke it…but all it had was pictures of us. I guess they're important memories to both of us, I shouldn't have chucked it so carelessly.' He thought to himself. Because Carl was a robot, Wilbur sometimes forgot he actually had feelings and thoughts of his own, but that hadn't been the case when Wilbur was younger. Wilbur used to think Carl was as human as the rest of the family, but now he wasn't so sure. 'Oh, the nativity of youth.' Didn't his mother used to say that? 'Wait, no. She always said youth was wasted on the young. I guess she's right, either that or she's paranoid about her wrinkles.'

"What was that all about?" someone interrupted.

The gentle yet masculine voice cut through the air and made Wilbur jump with fright at the daunting familiarity. He turned his head slightly and noticed Cornelius, his dad, watching him carefully from the television room just a few feet away. Brilliant blue eyes pierced through the dark brown ones as they stood in silence, just looking at each other.

Always _just_ looking.

Wilbur realised his dad was waiting for a reply, and he became flustered.

"Uh…Um. I was late for school and I tripped over my laces…" he stepped forward, motioning towards the stairs. "I fell…I'm not too hurt, though! Carl caught me after the first step." He said quickly at his father's shocked expression. He really didn't want to be talking to his dad right now, might as well get it over with though, he'd want to know where the bruises came from anyway.

"Thank god, I don't know what we'd do without that old bucket of bolts!" Cornelius said affectionately, laughing in relief. Wilbur nodded his head in silent agreement and lowered his longing gaze, realising he had been staring again. Wilbur had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he didn't want to admit why.

"Well…I'd better get to school."

He started to make his way down the stairs but stopped as he heard his dad clear his throat, an unspoken mannerism that meant he wanted to have a long talk. Cornelius walked forward and placed his hand on his son's shoulder, smiling awkwardly as the boy recoiled at the light touch.

"Wilbur…Are you…"

"I've got to go to school." He said flatly, and he pushed the hand off himself forcefully before running down the stairs and out the front door. Cornelius sighed deeply and lowered his hand, closing his eyes for a minute to recollect his thoughts. He had a feeling he knew what was wrong, but that display had just confirmed it.

"I know you miss me, Wilbur, but I'm right here, I've been here all along. Can't you see that?" He said quietly, his voice echoing hollowly off the walls. "I'm just…Older now. I'm your father. But that's never gonna be enough, is it."

His head hurt with the enormity of it all, his own shameful secret rising to the surface of his mind. He clutched at the sides of his head and moaned, squeezing his hands into fists, attempting to repress some painful memory. He wished he could rip these feelings from his very soul, his mind, his body, and just be a normal father. Look at his son the way a father is supposed to. Feel about him the way he was supposed to. Impossible, it could not ever be done. For what is done is done, something Cornelius didn't want to admit as he ground his knuckles into his skull, leaving small imprints.

"What a mess…It's so wrong. It's all _so_ wrong."

Wilbur ran until he could run no more, hoping the feel of the wind would remove the burning feeling the hand had left imprinted on his skin. He slumped dejectedly against his favourite little hill he always came to when he needed to think. It overlooked the high school he attended, and he frowned scornfully at the happy little figures playing and laughing in the hot sun. Girls were chatting in corners under trees as a group of boys played with a ball, pretending not to hear the shrieks and giggles of their female peers as it became too hot to wear shirts. Wilbur promptly looked away and lazed back on the soft grass, feeling the need to rest. He was exhausted, and it annoyed him somewhat. Usually he was a bundle of energy for the entire day, but the fact he had just run his entire Hover-bus route coupled with the fact he had not eaten breakfast made his energy levels sink. He took off his own shirt after realising it really was too hot for much clothes, and draped it over his eyes to nap for a while. The sun felt good against his bare skin, and he had no trouble getting to sleep. He tried to forget what had made him so upset and confused in the first place, but those eyes kept swimming in and out of his dream, haunting his sleep once more.

"Lewis…" he sighed.

_That_ word again.

*****************************************************************


	4. Chapter 4 Revelations

Lewis grumbled noisily to himself as he screwed up yet another piece of paper, lobbing it over his shoulder where it landed atop the growing mountain on the floor. His room was hopelessly messy, broken pencils, rulers and of course the paper littered the floor. Sheets of metal, numerous bolts and dirty clothes added to the clutter of the teenage invention, the 'floorage'. Who needed a closet to put your junk in, when you had a perfectly spacious floor? It was so much easier to find what you were looking for when it was spread out over a larger area, anyway.

Lewis inclined back on his wheelie chair and rubbed his temples, groaning.

"Why can't I do it?" He said out loud, his voice laced with anger. He had been working almost non-stop for a week, and still he couldn't draw up any satisfying blueprints.

"What's wrong with me?"

"That is an excellent question." Said a gentle voice, directly behind him.

Lewis froze. Was it…No, it couldn't be. He'd sworn to never come back, less he mess up the future again. Not that he desperately didn't want to see him; he missed him in a way he couldn't fully explain. But Wilbur coming back to this time could be disastrous, in more ways than one.

"Wilbur?" Lewis whispered, slowly rotating in his chair to face the tall figure. Upon seeing the person in front of him, he tilted his head in confusion. The person he saw really wasn't a person at all!  
Carl raised his hand in a half-hearted wave, his other rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment as he gave a small smile.

"Hay little buddy. Sorry to disappoint you, but it's only me." He said, rather dejectedly. Lewis shook his head furiously, replacing his confused expression with one of glee.

"Not at all Carl, I was actually working on you just now!" Lewis exclaimed, pointing excitedly to the paper-mountain, roughly the size of Everest. Carl eyed it with amusement, spying many crossed-out designs of him involving huge robotic biceps and a broad chest.

"Yeah…Sorry Carl, but the 'guns' just aren't working for you. They're not very practical, ya know." grinned Lewis, flexing his arms. "Get in the way a lot. How can I have an assistant whose bulging arms keep knocking things over?"

Carl sighed in mock depression, waving his own in a way that made them look like floppy spaghetti. Which wasn't hard considering how skinny and long they were.

"Well, I hear the robo-ladies care more about personality than the goods, anyway."

Lewis laughed heartily, holding his sides as he doubled over, tears running down his cheeks. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time, not since he'd last spent time with the Robinson's, in fact.

"Boy I can't wait to invent you! Never a dull moment…" he chuckled, removing his glasses and wiping them on his shirt.

"How'd you get here? Did you steal the time machine?" he asked, putting the glasses back on and looking around questionably.

Carl smiled sheepishly and pushed a red button on his chest, and Lewis heard the faint sound of a 'beep-beep' just outside his window as the headlights flashed in unison, lighting up the room.

"The lights are so we don't lose it when it's invisible." Carl said good-humouredly. "I don't even wanna tell you about the time we first went shopping with that thing. Ice-cream had melted long before we found it again...Wilbur cried for hours."

"But Carl, why are you even here, isn't it dangerous? You could be altering the future, right now, without even knowing it."

Carl stopped smiling and extended an arm towards Lewis, wheeling the chair with the boy still on it across the room. Carl sat on the bed and moved the chair so that Lewis was directly in front of him, and then they were both silent for a long time. Carl made the same, guttural sound both Cornelius and Lewis often did when they wanted to have a serious, long talk, and Lewis frowned in recognition. Programming that into his own robot? Genius.

Said robot leaned forward, surveying his young creator critically. Should he really be doing this? Free will was one thing, but should he really trust in his own judgement? He knew there was a 76.6% chance that this would not go well, but he'd put up with everything for so long, and it might all turn out to be for the best after all. It was a chance he had to take, for everyone's sake.

"Lewis…" he said, leaning closer. "I have to talk to you."

There was a solemn tone in his voice, one Lewis was not used to, and he didn't like it. He toyed with a pen he still had in his hand, twirling it between his fingers and trying not to look away from his robot friend. He knew whatever Carl had to say was gravely important, but then again, nobody likes hearing bad news.

"…About Wilbur."

"Wilbur?" the blonde asked, sceptically. He'd probably lost the time machine again, thought Lewis. He wouldn't put it past him.

"What did he do this time." He asked, giving Carl a knowing look.

"It's not what he did, really…" Carl said uncomfortably, thinking back to the night when he spied on his friend.

"It's what he hasn't done, what he should do…and you need to know about it. It's all about you."

Lewis didn't say a word, and Carl shifted his weight on the bed, making the springs creak loudly in the silence of the room. Lewis's expression was unreadable, which made the robot slightly nervous. Finally, he spoke again.

"The boy…is crazy about you. You're all he thinks about, and he hasn't been the same since the day he left you here…He's depressed, Lewis."

The young inventor blinked, trying to process what the robot had just said.

"Wilbur…What?"

"He loves you. And not in the way he should." Carl said, regretfully. "He can't even look his dad in the eyes, because all he sees is you."

Lewis blushed deeply, looking away from the blue optics surveying him, carefully. He had no idea what to think, whether to be repulsed, disturbed, shocked or…Happy. He was still trying to assess his feelings when Carl broke his chain of thought.

"We need to figure this out, Lewis. I'm not leaving here until we both, as a unit, come to a satisfying conclusion and plan of action. Because I care about both of you, and we can't leave things the way they are. I can't bear to see my little buddy like this."

Lewis nodded carefully. His palms were sweaty and his face was hot, but he agreed with Carl. It could not stay like this. Something had to be done.

And soon.

*****************************************************************


	5. Chapter 5 Innocent Reunion

"There he is." Carl said quietly, his metal finger making a slight chinking noise against the glass as he pointed out the window of the time machine.  
Lewis inhaled sharply as he spotted the slight, familiar figure below. He was sprawled out on a grassy hill overlooking a school, clearly asleep, and Lewis felt an unfamiliar emotion well up inside his chest. It had been so long…he hadn't realized just how much he had missed the pointy-haired little scamp.  
Carl expertly landed the time machine a few meters away, and turned slowly in his seat to face Lewis. The pair exchanged a wordless nod and Carl rested a hand on the young boy's shoulder; a reassuring gesture.

"Do what you have to do." He said. His tone was unreadable, emotionless; although Lewis swore he saw a moment of envy flutter over his robotic features.  
Lewis smiled weakly in response, his heart going out to his friend that was neither man nor machine. He deftly pressed a button on the dashboard, and the glass panel that shielded the two immediately slid open. He was glad the time machine was invisible and so quiet; it would make his entrance just that much more of a surprise. Carefully, he swung a leg over the side and slid to the ground, landing softly on the grass. Hands still resting upon the red metal, he chanced looking upwards. The robot now looked rather stern, as if there was something that hung in the air, waiting, needing to be said.

The blonde boy cocked his head and patted the side of the robust vehicle. "No matter what, Carl." He declared, taking a step backwards. "This doesn't change anything between you two. Or you and I…I wouldn't change it for the world."

Carl's expression softened. "I-I know, 'lil guy. I know…it doesn't stop me worrying, though."

"Please don't. Be seeing you soon, alright?"

Carl gave him the thumbs up, a quick wink and what would have been a watery smile before the vehicle disappeared from sight, the glass panel sliding back into place. Lewis could see the jet stream from the engines fade into the distance, and he waved absent-mindedly at the horizon until it completely disappeared. He knew he was putting off the inevitable, so slowly, he turned to face the boy at his feet.

Now came the hard part.

His breath caught in his throat once again as he gazed down at the face that had haunted his mind for weeks. He remembered it as one might remember a foggy, long forgotten memory. Ghostly and vague; he only had remembered one detail. And those chocolate brown eyes were hidden underneath a blue T-shirt, draped haphazardly across his face. A gentle breeze ruffled the carefully styled hair, tendrils softly stroking his cheeks now rosy from the sun. Lewis's eyes began to brim, and his vision became blurry as he fought to keep them from overflowing. It had been too long, it had been unbearable. He removed his glasses as he knelt down next to Wilbur, swiping fiercely at his eyes and cheeks as he felt the wetness spill over. Not again…it was just like his dreams. Wilbur's face was once again unclear through the swimming barrier of tears, and no matter how he struggled to wipe them all away, new ones soon formed over and over again. He couldn't keep up. Panicking now, he sobbed with small hiccoughing gasps as his hands searched for that familiar yet forgotten face. His hands found nothing but air, he couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think…

"Wilbur…where are you? Wilbur…Wilbur I can't find you! Wilbur!" He wailed, feeling like a helpless child. A helpless child, alone in the dark, calling for someone he wasn't sure was real. Crying for the aid that never came. He hated this feeling with all of his heart, but he had experienced it far too many times. After living for so many years as an orphan, always alone, he had finally found a family. Now, he could never go back to being alone, he could never give it up for anything.

He fell silent as he felt a pair of hands grasp his, strong and sure.  
"…Lewis." A soft voice called from the darkness. The sound became louder and pulled him back from that far-away memory.

The blonde let forth a sound of relief as the confident hands pulled him close to a bare and skinny torso. Lewis thought he would never hear that voice again, and he shed even more tears as he in turn circled his arms around the older boy and held him tight. He felt the same as he had the last time, and Lewis felt more comfort in that than he ever thought he would.

***

Heaven. This must be heaven. It could only be. No dream of his had ever been this sweet…especially the ones he'd been having lately.  
Wilbur breathed in long and deep, inhaling the clean and pleasant scent he had longed to know. Lewis's hair was as long as ever, and it tickled playfully around his face as he buried it deep and sighed, drawing the slightly smaller boy closer.

"Wilbur…"

"Lewis…it's really you, isn't it? I'm not just having a really awesome dream? I didn't die? I'm not in trouble? Oh PLEASE let me not be in trouble."

The corners of Lewis's mouth twitched up in good humor as he pinched a skinny arm with two fingers. Wilbur flinched slightly and loosened his grip just enough for his prisoner to wriggle out of his arms. The blue-eyed boy sat down in front of Wilbur, his eyes searching the pools of brown, full of questions.  
Wilbur realized too late that he was still holding on to Lewis's hand, and he shifted uncomfortably but didn't move it, merely averted his guilty stare. It felt too right, too good in the warmth and closeness he had been yearning for.

"Um…not that I'm not like totally thrilled to see you, but why are you here exactly?" he ventured, breaking the silence.

Lewis shook his head, still in a daze. He hadn't forgotten the reason, but he didn't want to bring up such a touchy subject so soon after their reunion. Then again, maybe he should…no use delaying the inevitable.

Wilbur smiled knowingly and helped Lewis to his feet, brushing the thin coating of grass from the seat of his pants. "I don't ever want to see you cry again alright? I might take it personally! I never know if it's tears of joy or of disappointment…" he chattered away.  
He stooped down to pick up his shirt when he heard a hauntingly familiar sound…no other sound could send a chill up his spine quite like this one could. He didn't dare move, didn't even blink.

It was Lewis, clearing his throat. That quirk was apparent in himself, Carl and Cornelius, and it made Wilbur panic. Quickly, he pulled his shirt back on and hugged the surprised blonde yet again, lifting him off the ground and laughing as he did it.

"Come, young Einstein, screw school! Let's go have some fun times!" he yelled enthusiastically, carrying him in the direction of home.

A good distraction, as Lewis immediately started giggling too, half-heartedly hitting him on the head and begging for release. It was the kind of random behavior he expected from Wilbur that always made him chuckle, the kind he had missed so dearly. Wilbur set him down and raced ahead, taunting the slower boy as he performed energetic cartwheels. He failed miserably, and ended up rolling down the grassy hill instead.

"Good one, Mister Time-Cop!" Lewis jeered.

"Oh hardy-har-har, don't try and hide the fact you're impressed! No-one can fall with such grace as I!" Wilbur retorted, just as he performed a particularly spectacular face plant.

Lewis laughed again as he excitedly jogged along in the brilliant sunshine, thinking whatever he had to talk about could always wait. It had been too long since he had had any kind of fun or break from his work, and he welcomed it all too gladly. He could only hope that Karl would be so forgiving…what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, after all.

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**Author's note:**_ I'm so sorry for not updating like...at ALL. The reason being I wasn't sure if people were actually reading it. Please let me know if you still read this. :)_


	6. Chapter 6 Sleepover

"No, wait wait wait, I got the BEST ONE!" Wilbur jeered, holding a flashlight under his face and leering at the other boy for dramatic effect.

Lewis drew his knees up to his own chest and hugged them close, waiting apprehensively.

"A girl bought a robot from Robiworks, he was programmed to be her very best friend…but when she woke up the next morning-"  
Lewis gasped and cowered against the huge cushion behind him on the couch, his eyes huge. "What…what?"

"-HE HAD LEFT SEVERAL VERY HURTFUL MESSAGES ON HER ANSWERING MACHIENE!" Wilbur cried, waving his arms around above his head.

Lewis's mouth was agape, ready to scream in terror on cue. But instead, a loud guffaw echoed around the rumpus dome. "That's it?" questioned Lewis. "That's the best you got? I've heard scarier stories from my Biology teacher!"  
Wilbur dramatically covered his face with one arm and wailed, flouncing across the room towards the couch. He threw himself next to a very amused Lewis and turned his back on him, acting rather huffy. "I have failed as master teller of scary stories! Damn you flashlight, you have foiled my dastardly schemes yet again."  
He made as if to shake the object in question, and it rattled feebly in his grip, looking very nonplussed. "Not so tough now, are we!"  
"No, please!" Lewis cried, holding in his giggles with pursed lips. "Not the FLASHLIGHT! Anything but that!"  
Wilbur smirked evilly, and made motions with his free hand as if he were stroking a rather impressive invisible moustache. "Bwahaha! Wicked-Wil strikes yet again! But maybe you would like to take its place…"

He looked pointedly at Lewis who clutched at his cheeks in mock horror, screamed like a girl and scrambled off the couch as the dark-haired boy pounced. He missed by several inches and whirled around, determined, but Lewis was already hiding amidst several beanbags. There were so many that Wilbur couldn't tell where he was hiding, so he improvised. Diving head-first into the squishy pile, he was certain he heard a faint rustling followed by a giggle to his right.

"Oh my! Wicked Wil has missed his target! Oh Looney Lewis, where art thou?"  
"You shall never find me, oh great home wrecker, for I am a master of disguise!"

Lewis jumped up and landed on top of a beanbag, which just happened to have a certain wicked boy underneath. Wilbur let out a loud "Oof!" as Lewis landed, and wriggled around hopelessly. He was completely immobilized.

"Oh darn, it seems you win this time, Looney...now kindly get off me, the carpet is leaving an unsightly imprint on the side of my face."

Lewis complied, rolling lazily off and laying star-fished on another larger beanbag.  
He couldn't remember ever having such fun before, or ever being so tired. Wilbur clumsily climbed onto the same beanbag and lay next to him. There was plenty of room for both boys, and each had a smile on their face as they looked out at the night sky. The rumpus dome was separate from the main Robinson's house, had a glass top and was completely sound-proof. This was just as well, as Wilbur didn't think his parents would be very impressed to see Lewis back in the future. They had been playing quite nosily; almost non-stop for hours, and now both boys were silent except for their quick breathing.

Lewis closed his eyes and hummed contentedly, pulling off his glasses and letting them fall beside him. He felt he might drift into sleep at any moment, which was a welcome change from his usual inventing-induced insomnia. His muscles were sore; they hadn't been used for playing in a very long time; but he reveled in it. If there was ever such a thing as a perfect day, it had to feel like this. His thoughts drifted to places filled with robots, a family that wanted him and long days with friends; thoughts that he usually avoided. They would keep him awake at night with longing, but this time it was different.  
He realized he didn't need to dream about this place anymore.

He was already there.

Wilbur, on the other hand, was not at all sleepy. His eyes were wide and unblinking; alert. Now that he was not distracted with playing, his mind wandered back to its dark place. His head brimmed with questions, and he turned his head to look at the younger boy, intending to let them overflow.

Lewis had fallen asleep with a wide smile on his lips, his cheeks rosy from exertion. The beams of light that crept in from the moon above wrapped around his form, dancing across his skin as he moved slightly, and Wilbur swore he had never seen anything so beautiful. He felt almost unclean just looking at such a pristine and angelic appearance, but he could not resist. He would surely go to hell.

Ignoring the little red men with horns and pitchforks that swarmed into his mentality, he cautiously reached out a hand to touch.  
It was the lightest, feathery grace, but even so the little red devils cried out obscenities the moment his fingertips made contact. They were thrashing about inside his skull, throwing themselves mercilessly against the insides of his head. And even as they stabbed at his eyeballs, he had closed them and had leant in for a chaste kiss. As he felt his white prince's lips underneath, the demons fell silent.

Surprised, Wilbur pulled back. He was uncertain as he felt a stirring, as though the demons had sit down behind his eyes with buckets of popcorn and 3D glasses.  
Was this really…okay? Was he really okay with this?

There was only one way to find out.

Wilbur took a deep breath, allowing himself to take the plunge. Propping himself up on his elbow, he leaned over Lewis and took one last look at how he wanted to remember him, always. He could almost feel the click of a camera as he committed the image to memory.

Hovering for a final moment, he slowly but surely lowered his head and kissed the boy he knew he couldn't live without.

*****************************************************************

**Author's Note: Thanks for the support guys. The only reason I'm updating is because of reviews and PMs I get from you! If I don't get them I have no idea if people are actually reading my fics.  
I may need a little encouragement to write some lemony goodness...It's what you've been waiting for, right? XD**


	7. Chapter 7 Those Eyes

The kiss was sweet and gentle, and in all of Wilbur's fantasies…well, none compared to the real deal. Lewis's lips were almost impossibly soft; and Wilbur's glided easily across them like velvet. An intense emotion began to burn at the back of his throat when Lewis sighed in his sleep, opening his mouth slightly. It was unfamiliar; though not unpleasant, and Wilbur felt braver by the minute. He both feared and willed the blonde to wake up and find him assaulting his mouth. He frowned inwardly at the thought; surely it would be more than a LITTLE awkward. 'Oh hey dad, don't mind me, I'm just trying to make out with you.'

None-the-less, the older boy moved his hand across a little, finding his friend's arm and beginning to very carefully stroke up and down. He opened one eye a crack and could see the raised hairs and little bumps of goose flesh his touch left behind. His mouth wandered away from the appetizing lips and explored South; moving them carefully across the cute rounded chin. Lewis twitched a little and rolled over in his sleep, almost hitting Wilbur in the face with a wayward arm.

None the worse for wear, Wilbur swung his leg over so that he was now straddling the sleeping form and grabbed the shoulder of the boy beneath him; flipping him onto his back again. He stared down at the hauntingly familiar face and sighed.  
How many times had he watched this face sleeping?  
It was a guilty pleasure of his to sometimes sneak into his parent's room in the dead of night and just watch. His father looked so much more like Lewis when he was sleeping; and he found some comfort in it. While Cornelius slumbered, Wilbur was free to stare all he liked until his eyes had had their fill. They were so starved during the daytime; he could barely look at his father and would avoid him when possible. But this time he had his Lewis; the REAL Lewis, right where he wanted him. And besides…

He was tired of just looking.

"Lewis." He whispered.  
"Mmm…?" Came the sleepy reply.  
"I love you."

Wilbur saw flashes of blue as the blonde's eyes fluttered open, looking blearily up at him. Still half asleep, he yawned widely and shifted a little on the beanbag, seeming confused as he felt the extra weight on top of him. Wilbur leaned down and placed both his hands on the sides of the other boy's face, turning it so that they were looking directly at each other.

"Did you hear what I said?" He breathed, the lines of his face pulling into a serious expression. It was so unbecoming of him.  
"I…what? Wilbur what are you-?"  
"I love you, Lewis. I know it's sick; hate me all you want, but I can't hold back anymore. I can't help it…you're just too perfect for me. And so very, very cute."

Wilbur just had time to see Lewis's mouth open in horror before he smothered it with a firm kiss. He held his head in his hands and pressed in harder as Lewis attempted to turn away. Lewis's arms clutched at Wilbur's back; his hands grabbing fistfuls of T-shirt; his nails digging into the skin beneath. He knew it was futile, that he couldn't escape, but he also knew he would hate himself for not trying.  
Wilbur broke for air and moved on to Lewis's neck; mouthing slowly at the base of his throat. His tongue massaged in a rhythmic pattern of circles and swirls, and Lewis held his breath in an attempt to stifle any noise he might be tempted to make.

"Wilbur, we can't!" The helpless boy croaked.  
The mouth changed position again, moving hungrily up and brushing past his ear. Lewis trembled a little as he felt a warm, wet tongue tease at the sensitive lobe.  
"Why not? Does this not feel nice to you?"  
Lewis made a tiny strangled sound as he felt the breath of the other boy patter across his skin.  
"It's not that…Wilbur, right now, the older me is forming memories of this moment. How are you going to be able to face me?" He questioned. It took all of his self-control to remain level-headed. The hot tongue and light grazing of teeth were very distracting. He could feel Wilbur smile almost wickedly as he moved his hand to the other ear, stroking the cartilage tenderly with forefinger and thumb. Lewis gasped loudly and dug his fingers into Wilbur's back, feeling a very strange and unfamiliar pull at the base of his navel. Wilbur had quickly found one of the most sensitive parts of his body…and was exploiting that fact.

Wilbur's other hand encircled Lewis's waist and pulled him closer; embracing him tightly. He stopped his ministrations for the moment and simply held him for what seemed like a million years. Lewis turned his head away but rested his cheek against him; he could hear his friend's quick heartbeat pounding in his chest.

"Lewis…I don't care, as long as I'm close to you. You're the most important person to me in the world." Wilbur said, his voice breaking with emotion. His shoulders heaved in a sob as he used both arms to hold the younger boy. Lewis returned the embrace, his own body shivering from holding in the tears.  
"Wilbur. I want you to know…that I feel the same way about you."  
Wilbur jerked backwards and held Lewis in front of him in astonishment; his eyes held the beginnings of tears and scrutiny.

"No way."

There was no way he felt the same, shameful feelings, was there? But the more he looked, the more he believed. Lewis was looking back at him with a flushed face, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile.

"So cute." Wilbur breathed, moving his thumb gently against the tinged cheek.

Lewis's face turned two shades redder with that and he looked away, biting his bottom lip in confusion.  
"I talked to Carl about it, and I hadn't even realized. No wonder you visit my dreams almost every night. You're VERY distracting, you know that?!" He accused, jabbing at Wilbur's chest.  
Wilbur pouted in mock-hurt, placing a hand on his hip. "Aw come on, if I'm in them, they must be pretty awesome dreams."  
"Awesomely DISTRACTING."  
"But you admit they're awesome one-the-less! You know you love the Wil-man." He grinned.  
Lewis turned his head to look at him again, and offered a small nod in reply as his smile grew. Wilbur was taken aback as the innocent boy leaned in, shyly capturing his lips in a chaste kiss. His lips moved experimentally as he tilted his head to one side for better access; closing his eyes, and all Wilbur could do was stare.

Lewis. Was kissing HIM.

As they broke apart, Wilbur stared some more - for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"No way." He said again, mouth agape.

Lewis shrugged good-naturedly. "Thank Carl. He knows you better than you do."  
"God I hope not." Wilbur said darkly; but there was fondness there.

Lewis began to giggle, but was soon silenced.

**---**

**Author's Note: I lied. Lemon will be next chapter. XD**


	8. Chapter 8 No Going Back

"Lewis…my Lewis." Wilbur crooned, running his fingers through the spiky blonde locks. Lewis leaned into the affectionate touch and sighed, relishing the feeling. How many times had he dreamed of this? The last time they had been this close was months ago on a dirty old rooftop; a hug goodbye. Both knew it lasted longer than was normal, and when Lewis had drawn away he noticed his skin had felt tingly where they had touched. A warm feeling overtook him and he couldn't help smiling while Wilbur awkwardly tried to brush it off, talking as usual.

"I love your smile." Wilbur murmured, breaking the daydream and cupping Lewis' face. The blonde realized this was reality and smiled wider as Wilbur ran his thumb along his bottom lip, almond eyes alert but soft. Nobody had ever looked at him like that, not even Frannie; it was the most beautiful thing.

Without thinking, Lewis opened his mouth and gently nipped the finger that was resting on his mouth, running his tongue slowly around it. Shocked, the older boy inhaled raggedly _in-in-in_ at the bewildering pull he felt deep inside his navel while he watched the innocent one. Lewis giggled and clasped the hand between his, adding another finger to his mouth and beginning to suck. To him it was a game, but Wilbur's arm shook as he pushed his fingers in deeper. They way Lewis acted so sweet while doing such a thing made the front of his pants become a bit too tight, and he couldn't help the sudden involuntary jerk his hips made. Lewis froze when he felt the boy move; Wilbur was on top of him so he could feel everything…_everything. _The semi-hard arousal pushed insistently between his legs and he gasped, arching his back a little, pushing himself desperately against Wilbur. The dark-haired boy answered with a loud groan and lay down flat on top of Lewis, starting a slow, rocking rhythm. Lewis mewled and gradually spread his legs further as his own arousal rubbed against Wilbur's, and small hands clutched desperately at his back, moving with him.

Wilbur's breathing became quick and ragged, and he swore under his breath as he felt Lewis becoming hard under him, too.  
"D-don't…swear…naughty…" Lewis breathed, tapping his friend's posterior with his hand. Wilbur grabbed it and made Lewis squeeze his ass tighter, loving the pressure he felt there. The sensation was so new, and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather experience it with.

"Guess you'll have to punish me." He said, his voice low. A naughty little look, some might call it 'bedroom-eyes' soon followed.  
Lewis vision swimmed as he tilted his face upwards, attacking Wilbur's mouth eagerly. His tongue found its way inside and cautiously rubbed against the other, and he responded with a throaty moan. Wilbur was becoming quite drunk off the sounds Lewis was making, and grinned into the kiss when his hips applied more pressure. Lewis couldn't stand it; the intenseness was finally getting to him. He threw his head back onto the beanbag and made a sound that went straight to Wilbur's manhood. He shuddered, sitting straight up, and pushed Lewis' shirt and sweater vest up and over, trapping his arms above his head. Lewis let out a huff of annoyance that Wilbur had stopped moving, and the dark-haired scamp leered as he looked down at him. Lewis attempted to free his arms, and Wilbur chuckled as he failed. Playfully, he removed his own shirt and threw it to one side, loving the way Lewis' eyes were fixed on his body's every movement. Naturally, he loved being in the centre of attention…he was in his element. He lightly ran a hand down his stomach, and Lewis's baby-blues followed the trail. Wilbur's grin became wider still, and his hand unlocked his belt when it reached his waist. He licked his lips to make them moist, and gently laid back down on top. He didn't want to rush things…even though he was horny as hell.

Lewis had been annoyingly silent, and Wilbur figured that just wouldn't do. Slowly, teasingly, he dragged his now bare torso up along Lewis' exposed navel, drawing out another enticing sound from him. The blonde's eyes were unfocused now, vision hazy, and his lips were slightly parted. They glistened in the small amount of light, begging to be ravished. Wilbur couldn't resist, and he mouthed his way up from the chest to those welcoming lips.

"Ooh, Lewis…" he panted. "I love you so much. You have no idea."

Lewis heard, but couldn't reply. Wilbur had closed his eyes now and began rocking even faster, riding Lewis as hard as he could. Their errections ground against each other through the thin fabric of their pants, and pleasure shot through Wilbur's spine like never before. Now that they were only separated by thin underwear, as opposed to the thicker pants, the sensations were felt more forcefully. Lewis had managed to free his arms and grabbed Wilbur's ass to force him down harder, wanting all he could get. His legs encircled Wilbur's waist and jerked every so often when he felt a particularly breathtaking sensation. He never knew he could feel like this; sweating, panting, grinding…loving. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, not just the physical but the emotional side too. Both were meshing together as one, and he thought about his love for Wilbur as he was simultaneously being ridden by him. He felt like he was going to burst with the amount of pleasure that was building up inside…and he did. His whole body tensed up and Wilbur had stopped moving, too. His almond eyes were half open and he shuddered passionately with his incredible release upon seeing Lewis's face contorted in ecstasy. The blue eyes rolling slightly back, back arching, mouth swollen by kisses parted, crying out his name…naked torso glazed with sweat, blonde hair plastered against rosy cheeks…the image would be imprinted in his mind forever.

God, did he love this boy.

A pair of glowing blue optics grew wide as they viewed from the corner, holding a hint of unfamiliar emotion.

.

* * *

**_The wait was long, and I apologise!_**

**_I attempted to keep the lemon less hard-core...because let's face it; they're just 'tweenagers'. I wanted to capture just how much they love each other, how they can't let each other go despite the taboo element of their relationship. _**  
**_Even though many people would consider it wrong, to me they fell in love not as father and son, but as friends. Wilbur sees Lewis as a different person than Cornelius (and he is different...imagine how much you would change in 25 years!), but can't help being cruelly reminded of Lewis when he's around him. It's much like a mother might be reminded of her husband when she looks at her child - they may look like him, but they are not him._**

_**Anyway...please let me know what you thought! PLEASE!**  
_


	9. Chapter 9 The Glow

Carl wrung his hands fiercely as he paced up and down the hall; his metal feet making sharp clunking sounds as he mumbled worriedly to himself.  
He had just witnessed something he didn't fully understand.  
He didn't mean to watch, really, but the two boys had surprised him when they came bolting into the Rumpus Dome. Panicked; he had hidden – he'd sensed they'd needed some alone time.

And how right he had been.

Of course, it wasn't the first time he had witnessed things of that nature – he had a bad habit of wandering the house at night; but this was different. This was disturbing. This was…wonderful.  
He hadn't seen Wilbur smile like that in weeks, no, months. He had missed that playful, rascally laughter that used to infect their home and hearts. When Wilbur laughed, it was the most magnificent and endearing thing to him. Although he liked to play along and act somewhat aloof and sarcastic, it was his own dry humor mixed with Wilbur's energetic and random behavior that gave him any kind of joy in his dull life. The whole family had felt the change in the mood of the household when Lewis had left, but assumed it was just teenage moping. Carl knew better than that. When Wilbur became withdrawn and depressed…something had better be seriously, critically wrong. It just wasn't in his nature.

And although last night had been wonderful, things were now worse than before. Now, everyone involved were not just in a pickle…they were sealed in the pickle jar. The kind with the screw lid. And we know how hard those buggers are to open. Especially when your inventor designed you with spindly noodle-arms instead of hulking biceps.

* * *

Wilbur stretched dramatically; his lean body contorting rather stiffly as his muscles complained in the best of ways. Boy…what a night.

What.

A.

_Night._

The night of his life. The stuff amazing (not to mention, moist) dreams are made of. He was still floating on a cloud, and he didn't want to open his eyes and break the illusion just yet. However, he knew it had been real and not a dream this time – it had to be. Usually, he just felt deep shame and guilt after those types of dreams, but this morning was different. He could feel a very warm, soft form cuddled into the crook of his arm, moving slightly with regular breathing, and he knew from the scent that it was Lewis. His Lewis. He would know it anywhere.

Regretfully, he finally opened one eye just a crack, and sneaked a peeky. It was so worth it. Lewis was nestled against his chest, one leg slightly over Wilbur's, breathing softly. His shirt was off, his neck held several small red bruises and all in all he looked fairly disheveled. Wilbur smirked to himself as he remembered why and leaned over, brushing a small lock of stray blonde hair aside. He placed a tender kiss on his forehead, and he could almost swear he saw Lewis smile in his sleep.  
God, he loved looking at him when he was asleep. The real thing. The real Lewis. Too often had he used his father Cornelius as a replacement; it was not the same of course, but it was better than nothing at all. He didn't feel this sense of warmth and adoration when he looked at Cornelius; only deep, burning longing. Because to him, his father was merely a reminder of Lewis; the raw, physical resemblance. They had a few similarities, that much he could not deny. Little quirks and mannerisms; but all in all they were two different people to Wilbur. A lot can happen in twenty-odd years, a lot can change.

He just wished he could look at his father and feel how he used to. The NORMAL feelings a son was supposed to have for his father. No matter how he rationalized it all, he still knew it was not right.

Good god, he was messed in the head.

Great hair though.

Wilbur sighed and carefully wiggled himself away from Lewis, who curled up like a cat at the sudden loss of warmth. Wilbur wondered if he always slept that way, or if his abandonment issues were gone with the arrival of his new parents. Being alone for twelve years had got to leave you with some scars, after all.  
Wilbur stood and placed both hands on his hips, leaning backwards and clicking his back.

"Whelp…'bout time for breakfast, I guess. Hope Carl made waffles, man I love waffles. Waffles are the tits."

He was in a cocky kind of mood. He bounced on the balls of his feet, imagining himself bringing a tray of breakfast-in-bed to a properly loved-up Lewis. He would include a rose, of course, for when Wilbur courted someone he did it RIGHT.  
With the thought still in his mind, he ran eagerly out of the Rumpus Dome into the garden, running smack-bang into his grandpa.

"Wilikers, young fella!" Grandpa Bud yelped, his teeth knocked out from the impact and flying to god-knows-where. "What are ya doing out here?"

"Oh!" Wilbur exclaimed, shooting an awkward look towards the door as it slid shut. "Nothing Gramps. Just doing a bit of inventing, you know, taking after the old man and all. Gotta keep the 'ol noggin up to speed." He flashed what he hoped was an innocent grin.

"Really! Well, let's see it then, huh?" Grandpa Bud made to move for the door. "I had no idea you invented…"

"NO! I-I mean…you'd better find you teeth. I mean, we don't want that woodchuck getting a hold of them, do we? That would be just awful."

Grandpa Bud seemed to ponder this for a moment, before his face lit up with his usual toothless smile. "Right ya are, kiddo! He made a right mess of my arm last time. Turns out he DID have rabies, wouldn't you believe it? Ya gotta show me after, though, I won't forget!"

"I'm sure you won't…" Wilbur said, regretfully.

"I honestly won't, I've got the memory of…that big…wrinkly gray animal with the sad-looking nose. Or was it a bear? It was big, I remember that much."

"Well if you forget, I promise to remind you, how's that?" Wilbur responded through gritted teeth.

"Forget what? What were we talking about? Where's my teeth?"

Grandpa Bud turned around and walked dazedly back into the house, and Wilbur groaned; pretending to tear out his hair as he followed the old man.  
His lovely, handsome, well-styled hair.

Just as he stepped inside, an idea formed in his head with the pretty, pretty hair. He had to test it. He just had to. He would hate himself if he didn't find out for sure.  
He ran up the staircase, his converse shoes squeaking with each step, leaving Grandpa Bud rambling on to himself as old people do. Wilbur jumped the last three steps and came to a stop at his parent's bedroom door. He was panting hard, not totally due to the run as he touched the cool metal of the futuristic door.

Did he dare?


	10. Chapter 10 I Realise Now

Wilbur Robinson may have been a seriously twisted, confused boy; but a coward he was not. He needed only seconds to compose himself for the incoming leap of faith. Gingerly, he grabbed the smooth handle of the door and slid it slowly to the side, peeking inside the room. His father was sleeping alone in the humongous four-poster bed, and cloth of various weights and shades of blue draped from every angle, encasing his sleeping form in a flowing cocoon. The headboard was made from sleek sheets of chrome, and it refracted the soft morning light peeking in from the automatic blinds. It was tastefully engraved with the family crest, which more well-known as the Robinson Industries logo. To Wilbur, it all looked very regal, and he approached his King meekly - his eyes focused and intent on their purpose. Cornelius appeared to be in a deep slumber, sprawled out somehow quite gracefully across the entire bed. It was then Wilbur noticed how much bigger this version of his beloved was – indeed, his large feet even dangled out over the end of the bed a little. Wilbur hesitated only for a moment before he crawled obediently across the vast bed on hands and knees. He crouched next to the sleeping form, his heart slamming against his chest with an unfamiliar emotion. His breath hitched upon seeing the angelic sleeping face, the same face he had admired just this morning in literal afterglow. Sure, there were differences between the two…This version had grown into his features, which were now sharper and less like a cherub. Wilbur gulped noisily in his throat as he reached out a hand to stroke the side of the sleeping man's face. The skin felt different, too. Sort of raspy, like soft sandpaper, and tickly on the tips of his fingers. He decided he didn't like it much, and wondered offhandedly when he would grow such a ghastly thing.

Without warning, the so-far peaceful sleeper's eyes flew open, piercing into the shocked almonds of brown. Wilbur was like a deer caught in the headlights, but he was beyond doing nothing now. Even as the face he was stroking turned stern, nothing would stop him now from finding out his true feelings.  
"It's that day, isn't it." The deep rumble of his father's voice took him off guard.  
"That…day?"  
"The one I will never forget. I'm sleeping in the Rumpus Dome right now, aren't I?" He offered, expressionless.  
Wilbur's face burned. Oh god, that's right. Last night, he'd gotten to many, many bases with his own father from the past – whom, of course, would have remembered every detail. He hung his head in shame, mumbling dejectedly into his chest. "That is an excellent question."  
"But it's not the most important one to you, I think." His father stated, and it rang true.

Wilbur didn't even have time to react. Cornelius grabbed the thin arm of his son and removed it from his own cheek, in turn rolling over in the bed and leaning over him. It was intimidating to say the least, and Wilbur stared up at him with the look of the lamb. Light peeked through the abundant cloth of the bed-drapes and framed Cornelius' golden broomish hair from behind, and for a second the boy below him was convinced he had seen an angel. But Wilbur's heart leapt hopefully in his chest as the bright blue eyes from above finally lidded, and their lips met in a light kiss.

It was innocent in every way. Neither chose to deepen it, and Wilbur was the one to part first, a very confused expression splashed across his young features.  
"It was…"  
"You felt nothing, right?" Cornelius ventured, leaning up on his elbows rather nonchalantly.  
Wilbur lay unmoving on the bed, completely gob smacked. He was right. The kiss was, at most, a family kiss. Friendly; a greeting, and completely lacking in passion. Compared to the kisses he had exchanged with his Lewis last night, that was most disappointing.  
He turned his head on the pillow, his face full of questions. Cornelius replied with a sad smile, before moving his hand to ruffle Wilbur's perfectly gelled hair.  
"It's because…if you think about it, Lewis isn't me. Yet." He explained earnestly. "We can change a lot in thirty years, you know. The person you have grown to love is a boy of twelve called Lewis…I stopped being Lewis the day I meet the Robinsons." A trace of fondness was noticeable in his deep, dewy voice.  
Wilbur nodded slowly; it was true. Cornelius may look like his Lewis, but…the chemistry was just not there. The Lewis he knew was sweet, innocent, nerdy, and best of all, his age.  
"Your brain has successfully made the separation between my current self as your father, and myself in the past as...well, you know. To you, and to me, they are two completely different people."  
With a thoughtful hum, Wilbur closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in slowly. "I find it hard to believe you would approve of Lewis and I's relationship, but…" He paused, a look of disgust dawning on his face. "…You know everything Lewis and I…_did,_ and will do. Isn't that at least a little weird?" Wilbur questioned, fearfully. How could his father be so blasé about this obviously fucked up situation? His father knew very intimate details about his own son's sex-life - nay, he had technically experienced them for himself. It was a bit incesty, if he did say so himself, but that word was a little too close to home right now.  
Cornelius chuckled good-naturedly. "I need to show you something…"  
Wilbur looked up suspiciously from his pillow as the other rummaged in the bedside table for god-knows-what. His mind almost went places – almost, but then he remembered, hey, you know what, this dude is your DAD.

What his father ended up producing was in fact a series of old-style paper photographs, not at all like the iLED's. Some were slightly faded, their edges lovingly dog-eared from much use, and some were much newer. All of them contained Cornelius and a familiar-looking (not to mention really, really, ridiculously good-looking) tall man of around the same age, sporting dark hair and eyes. Wilbur pointed at a picture of the pair standing in front of the red time machine. They were holding hands in a very not-just-friends way, and the sparkle of pure happiness and love apparent on their faces made Wilbur melt. He wished he could know this kind of unity and bliss, ideally with his adorable and nerdtastic Lewis.  
"Who's the hottie?" He asked, referring to the other man in the photos. "And does mom know about this?" He exclaimed, upon flicking to a picture of the happy couple cuddling on a beach.  
"That is…the future Wilbur. He makes me call him Will." Cornelius said fondly, using his hand to guide the other edge of the photograph towards himself to get a better view. "And no, your mother doesn't know. She thinks Will is your long-lost uncle."  
Wilbur looked up at his father, wanting to read his expression, as he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about this new information himself. Although calm as always, his father looked dismayed at the thought of lying to his wife.  
"Don't get me wrong, I love them both, in my own way." He said slowly, wanting to choose his words carefully. "But after today, back then, I knew…if I wasn't with her, Will would never exist…You. You would never have been born. And I love you both too much to bear that."  
Wilbur's eyes welled up with tears as he finally recognized the handsome man in the photographs. He'd never known. This whole time, Uncle Will, the fun and hip man who visited the Robinsons twice a month ever since he could remember, was…  
Himself.  
"How long?" He said quietly, the disbelievement he felt was overwhelming. "How long have Lewis and I…you and Will…been together?"  
Cornelius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and his eyes looked watery too. "Until Lewis and Frannie birth you…you cannot ever see him. The temptation would just be too great. And you would end up disappearing like the last time we messed with the future." His brow furrowed, as though remembering some painful past. "The heartbreak – it's not going to be easy, son. But if you persevere…and remember...in nine years time, you'll be able to be with him again. It's too dangerous now to see each other before you're born…I…I think it's best you and Lewis are separated until then."  
Wilbur sobbed and clutched at Cornelius' shirt, before being pulled into a tight embrace. Cornelius let his own tears flow freely down his cheeks, the pearls of woe landing softly on the dark head of hair against his chest. He inhaled sharply as a long-forgotten memory flashed into his mind, and he looked slowly towards the bedroom door. A second pair of watered blue eyes, framed by large spectacles, seemed to mirror his expression as they locked across the room with his. He nodded solemnly and held his son tighter, as outside the door a spindly robot arm entwined with the boy from the pasts'. Lewis had time for one more look at the boy he loved, before the unmatched pair of robot and young master trod dejectedly towards the garage, where the bright red vessel that was the cause of so much pain lay in wait.


End file.
